Five For Fighting
by asomyrcal
Summary: Complete : One-Shot - Five moments in their life.


**Title:** Five (For Fighting)  
**Fandom:** 07-Ghost**  
Pairing(s): **Hyuuga and Ayanami  
**Warnings:** A mix of angst (ish), powertrip, and fluff.

**Synopsis: **Five moments in their life.

Prompts courtesy of jiseihakushaku over here: jiseihakushaku on livejournal[dot]com.  
Also, I dedicate prompt 24 to Mika-chan, for making me think of this amazingly fluffy scene.

_**8 – I'd fight for you, and die for you**_  
He didn't expect the shadow of his Beigleiter to come between him and certain injury, didn't expect the spatter of crimson amidst pale white snow, and he certainly didn't expect the man who had been at his side all this time to crumple so soundlessly to the ground.

He knows Yukikaze had once said, "I'd fight for you, and die for you," but Ayanami certainly didn't expect it to be so soon.

_**11 – "It doesn't matter who you are, because you're still you."**_  
He sees the fleeting glint of doubt in those violet eyes before the Chief of Staff averts his gaze and replaces vulnerable glass with bulletproof armor, and he knows why his frigid superior allowed that one mistake to slip through.

"Doesn't matter who you are," and Ayanami freezes as his subordinate's arms slide around his shoulders, lips brushing against his ear. The strength in those arms is almost comforting, and for a moment he can feel his subordinate's heartbeat against his back.

"Aya-tan is Aya-tan, right?"

The only answer Hyuuga gets is a quiet, monosyllabic grunt, and it makes him smile.

_**20 – "These violent delights have violent ends; And in their triumph die, like fire and powder; Which, as they kiss, consume."**_  
The sound of booted feet crunching through melted snow and dirt and what remained of their enemies jerk him out of his reverie, and Ayanami looks up to meet feral crimson unmasked by skewed sunglasses. He matches it with a cruel smirk of his own, sheathing a bloodied blade as his subordinate's figure steps closer.

They're alone again, amongst the carnage and death they've wrought, and for a moment he swears all he hears is the sound of his heart pounding in his chest and adrenaline in his veins.

It had taken them less time than expected; but it seems almost normal for the military to underestimate them, if the incident at Antwort was anything to go by. For a brief second Ayanami allows himself a distraction, remembering what it had been like in that battle.

Then there is the brush of coarse fabric against his chin and the taste of sweet copper on his lips that break through his thoughts, and Ayanami lets a muffled growl slip as gloved hands find purchase on the front of Hyuuga's uniform, crushing the crisp fabric in his grip. He's suddenly all too aware of the hand resting at the back of his neck, fingers curled almost possessively in silver strands.

The man tastes of metallic blood and sweet death, and it threatens to overwhelm him.

It isn't like them, the moment of reckless abandon; they shouldn't be doing this, not here, not when they could be seen, and the Chief of Staff knows it – and briefly he considers ignoring the warning resounding through his mind – roughly pushing his subordinate away, a flash of momentary anger crossing those violet eyes. It isn't like them, a moment where both spiraled too quickly out of control with no safety net to ensnare them.

They're almost out of breath by the time they break apart, and the taste lingers on his lips, almost as if mocking the quickly-quashed desire for more.

"Later," Ayanami manages to growl out, stepping back as if the distance will serve as a barrier between them, even though he knows the gap between them has never been an issue. His heart is still pounding – and he doesn't know why this time – as he spins on his heel and starts the long trek back to their transport.

Hyuuga merely grins that same old Cheshire-cat grin, pushing his sunglasses back into place with a blood-spattered glove, falling into step behind his superior with ease.

_**22 – "...From what I've tasted of desire, I hold with those who favor fire..."**_  
That man tastes of warmth and sweet spice, and for a moment his head swims, fingers hooked in his collar and wavering between pushing him away or jerking him closer for that all-too-addictive taste. For the warmth that Hyuuga presents.

The air is cold against bare skin as deft fingers push the newly buttoned shirt off broad shoulders and Ayanami suppresses a shudder; he refuses to show any form of weakness, even if it is to the subordinate he trusts with his life.

Suddenly there is fire at his throat and violet eyes slide closed, grip slackening in the crisp fabric. He can almost feel the smirk on his subordinate's lips, and growls in response, suddenly finding himself pinned against the cold glass of the regenerative tank.

"Just like you," and the rest of his words are lost, lost to caramel and blood red temptation.

_**24 – "The only thing I long for is to wake up with you beside me."**_  
Violet eyes finally open a crack to see the first few rays of sunlight peeking through the gaps in hastily drawn curtains, murmurs something unintelligible about drapes and subordinates for a moment before the arm around his waist tightens slightly, almost possessively.

Ayanami shifts, making a vague attempt to sit up, and this time the dark-haired figure beside him finally lifts his head, venturing a sleep-hazed glare and a semi-coherent grumble from his pillow about early rising staff officers.

It draws the barest of smiles from the stoic man.

It is a moment of stolen normalcy; no rank or uniform, just a brief respite, and Ayanami finally relents, allowing his battle-weary body to fall back onto the warm bed. Beside him, Hyuuga manages a half-awake grin and leans closer to press a somewhat affectionate kiss against his superior's neck.


End file.
